Give Me Love
by findingclosure
Summary: Dreams. They do things to people. And for Alfred F. Jones', they have brought to light the existence of Arthur Kirkland, a British boy with an attitude. What are these dreams trying to tell Alfred, and what exactly is up with Arthur? ((Possible suicidal themes and there may or may not be USUK.))
1. Dream

**Give Me Love **

Chapter 1

_Alfred found himself on white, fluffy clouds. Golden gates stood high above him, the stainless gold shining in the pale sunlight against the pinkish-orange sky. There was a lock right in the middle of the massive structure. Alfred ghosted his fingers over the lock, tilting his head and observing it. _

_The gates opened themselves before fading to nothingness. Alfred took careful steps in, feet treading on the weightless clouds. He looked around. It was just clouds and infinite amber skies. He kept walking on, not very sure of where he was going. _

_After walking for quite a while, he came across a pond. A majestic tree gave the area beside it some shade. Upon getting a close look at the tree, Alfred realized that the tree's bark had a golden tinge to it. Golden leaves were slowly creeping out of their slumber, uncurling themselves like buds of flowers blossoming. They glittered in the sun, a nice canopy of gold that was not overpowering. It contrasted nicely against the clear, cerulean sky._

_Alfred walked right up to the pond, looking at the crystal clear water. There was no form of life in the water, neither fishes nor aquatic plants. Just water. He saw his own reflection in the water. _

_Sandy golden hair swept to the side, his weird cowlick still poked out after so many years. His set of cerulean eyes stared back at him, also framed by thin-wired spectacles. Alfred sat down by the water, admiring the serenity. _

_All of a sudden, he heard a splash of water. He looked back into the water, his reflection in ripples. Lush green was mixed into the swirl. _

_When the ripples had cleared, staring straight at Alfred was a boy with dark green eyes that reflected no light. This boy has the same hair colour as Alfred, but his hair was a horrible bedhead. Under his fringe were two hairy things that Alfred later realized were eyebrows. They sat upon those lifeless and sad-looking eyes. Alfred dipped his fingers next to the foreign reflection._

_Alfred had expected the fingers of this other person to connect with his, but instead, silver lines started dancing from his fingertips, a chill rising over the pond. The sliver lines ran across the whole pond, jumping and twirling like threads weaving themselves. A cracking sound was heard. Alfred jerked back his hand and scrambled back—the water was turning to ice. The face of the boy in the water was contorted to one portraying shock. He tapped feebly at the new layer of ice. Alfred slowly crawled to the pond. _

_Alfred reached out to the new boy again, his fingers barely touching the ice, when a sharp cracking sound pierced the silence. Straight white lines webbed the ice, and soon the pond just fell to pieces. Alfred peered over the edge, watching that blonde boy fall, his hair whipping over the wind. Alfred reached out to him, but leant too far in and soon the sensation of falling enveloped him…_

Alfred jerked up, the sensation of falling taking its own time to fade away. A thin layer of sweat shined on his forehead; he was hyperventilating. Sunlight poured through the spotlessly white curtains, spilling into Alfred's dim bedroom.

The American shuffled to the washroom, washing up and getting ready for school. That boy never left his mind. It was slightly annoying. Those green eyes looked so familiar, yet it was so distant.

Alfred smelled the aroma of pancakes wafting in the air. When he reached the dining area, a blonde teen that looked like Alfred was already sitting there.

"Morning Al," he greeted in his soft voice, piling pancakes on a plate and setting it in front of Alfred's seat. The American grunted in thanks, grabbing the maple syrup on the table and drowning the fluffy brown discs. He ate while browsing through the headlines of the newspapers. Boring. No one cares when a new baby panda is born or something. Time would be better spent on trying to cure cancer as compared to commenting on baby pandas.

Out of the blue, the other blonde's phone rang. He pressed the green answer button.

"YO BIRDIE. WHERE ARE YOU? WE NEED OUR ADORABLE PIANIST!" blasted through the receiver. The said 'Birdie' jerked away from the phone. Alfred, who was sipping OJ, almost spit the orange liquid out in laughter.

"Seriously, Matthew? Birdie? You and Gil are too cute," Alfred commented, Matthew's cheeks soon dusted pink. He muttered 'shut up' half-heartedly and whispered into the phone, soon picking up his bag, still on the phone. The Canadian gave Alfred an apologetic look and mouth 'sorry' before setting off, tossing the keys at Alfred. Alfred caught it and waved, stuffing it into his pocket.

He took his time to eat his pancakes and sipped OJ while scrolling through his email. Urgh. Flooded, yet again, by 'fanmail' by girls in the school. Probably a hundred unread "HEY BABY ALFRED I LOVE YOU MY NUMBER IS XXXXXX CALL ME OKAY ;)"

He had no idea how they got his email address, but he was never at peace because of it. His guess was that the Comm betrayed him to bribe some clubs. What made things worse was that this was the only email account where all his Student Info mails were sent to him. He did consider changing his email, but someone in the School Comm would most likely just spread it all over again, making his efforts simply pointless.

After a while, he gave up and switched his phone off. He polished up the rest of his breakfast and went off to school.

Alfred walked straight to the Chemistry lab. He didn't feel like socializing now. It suddenly felt more unbearable being in those other jocks' presence. Their presence and their play toys, or the girls they call their 'girlfriends'. They probably only stuck to him for popularity.

_Being alone is better than being around people who make you feel lonely._

And then he walked in.

This new boy had blonde hair just like Alfred and had bushy things on his face. Alfred later realized they were his eyebrows.

But what struck him to stare was the green eyes that boy wore. The same pair of green eyes that had been bothering him all morning.

**A/N: My word I am back to writing fanfictions this is a miracle. This took so long I don't even know anymore. I'm sorry, I've been HomeStucking, but I am still Hetalia (:**

**Thanks for reading all! Please feel free to review so I can improve on my writing skills~ Erm…I'm hungry, so flames shall warm up my instant noodles yay! **

**3 Casey**


	2. Confrontation

Give Me Love Chapter 2 q

**Warnings: Strong language and some bullying.**

"What the fuck do you want, bastard?"

Alfred caught himself staring (more like gawking) and snapped out of his trance. He stifled an awkward laugh and scratched the back of his neck. His laugh was interrupted by a loud and sudden slam on the lab bench. The blonde boy was glaring at the American, intense Peridot burning into defenseless baby blue.

Alfred could not help but drown in the brilliance of those eyes, despite how intimidating they were.

"ANSWER," the green-eyed boy fumed. Alfred snapped out of his second session of admiring this boy in his dreams –

That sounded horribly gay.

"Er… nice highlights?" Alfred quickly passed a comment on his neon pink and green highlights on wheat-coloured hair. Those intimidating eyes didn't leave Alfred, the answer not satisfying him.

After a while, the other boy's eyes softened a little. He flashed a rude gesture at Alfred before returning to his seat and forcing his ear buds into his ears, scribbling something as music blasted from the tiny listening device on his table. Alfred found it puzzling, but soon students started trickling in, so the American just took it as the punk not wanting to start a conflict in front of the other students.

_Seriously, what is _up_ with that attitude?_

Alfred sat down at his lab table and took out all his writing materials. He flipped through his notes absent-mindedly. Most of the pages had little doodles adding colour to them. Just that little confrontation intrigued Alfred more. The way those green eyes looked occupied mind, not leaving any room for other thoughts.

Alfred found this…attraction somewhat scary.

"Hey dude… who _is_ that dude with highlights over there?" Alfred poked his tablemate, Gilbert Beilschmidt. The German boy was Matthew's boyfriend. Alfred thought he was cool. Apparently being an albino with red eyes and white hair was cool, to Alfred at least.

"That guy?" Gilbert glanced at the punk, who was still listening to music, "Arthur Kirkland. School punk. Absolutely notorious, but has sick guitar skills. Originally from England." Alfred noticed that Gilbert was speaking in a hushed tone.

_Arthur, eh? Sounds a little too gentleman-like a name for a guy with an attitude like that._

"Punk? Guitar? Is he trying to be in a band or something?" Alfred inquired further. Gilbert just laughed.

"Well I doubt it. Geez, he's been in our Chemistry class for two years already, how do you not know his name?" Gilbert shifted the topic away from Arthur and spoke at a normal volume.

Alfred's heart sank a little. It was so hard for him to remember people, having been around so many. Perhaps it was because of this he was unable to really establish real ties. Popularity sucked.

_Being alone is better than being around people who make you feel lonely._

Alfred was spared from answering, for the teacher walked in at that exact moment and Alfred started his battle against thinking of Arthur.

_RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNG_

Alfred stuffed his books in his bag, having a small conversation with Gilbert. He stole a glance at Arthur, who was already rushing off, pulling the hood of his black hoodie over his head. Alfred saw a flash of specks of black; most likely the boy's ear buds.

And just like that, Kirkland disappeared from the Chemistry lab.

"Alfred…ALFRED FRITZ JONES."

Alfred winced and turned to face Gilbert, giving the albino the "What the hell?" look. The German boy had shouted directly into his ear. Gilbert wasn't smirking like usual. Usually he would mock Alfred for being so dreamy all the time. Today seemed to be different.

"Al, what's up with you today? First the weird questions about Kirkland, and now _staring _at him. Are you developing a crush over him? What happened to your 'no homo' thing?" Gilbert looked at Alfred, expecting an answer, his lips a thin line.

"It's nothing dude! That guy just bumped into me and was violent and stuff so I was wondering about him. And yeah, I'm still no homo!" Alfred reassured his buddy, reciting his "no homo" motto he had gotten after reading Homestuck. John was so cool, being the main hero and all. Man, Alfred would kill to have those wind powers. "And my middle name is Foster. Don't get your Prussian history mixed in with me okay?"

"Be honored to share a great ruler's name for a moment okay!" Gilbert argued. Alfred chuckled and they walked out of the classroom, Alfred heading to the lockers to get some stuff he had forgotten.

He never actually got there, his journey disrupted by the sound of something hitting metal. He looked back, the noise catching his attention.

Held against a locker was Arthur, strong hands clasped around his thin neck. The Brit's face was red, his eyes scrunched up in pain. His slender fingers were trying to pry the strong finger off him, but it didn't work. He was lifted from the ground, legs kicking about. His teeth were gritted in effort.

Holding him up was Ivan Braginski. He wore an innocent smile that could've easily fooled anyone, but deep violet eyes had malicious intent seeping from them. He was of a big build, someone who could easily uproot a tree. Alfred's fingers curled around the strap of his bad a little tighter.

"Arthur has made a mistake by bumping into me, da?" he spoke innocently, the hint of anger barely audible. Arthur didn't make a squeak, but raised his foot high enough to kick the Russian. The latter didn't seem to be affected by it physically, but his eyes seemed to glow with evil. He squeezed Arthur's neck in his massive fingers, reducing the Brit to choke and gasp for air. Arthur's struggle became even greater.

Alfred couldn't take it any longer.

One second the Alfred was standing along sidelines, the next he was standing between Ivan and Arthur, Arthur free from the Russian's hands, sprawled over the floor and gasping for air.

Ivan towered over Alfred, one of his eyebrows quirked in faint amusement. Alfred's challenged the sadistic gaze with seriousness. Students crowded around, but not close enough to be scalded by the burning tension between the two.

After a few heated moments, Ivan smiled a little wider before walking off, the crowd quick to form an opening for the Russian to take his leave.

Alfred's hateful gaze lingered for a moment before it returned to Arthur. The Briton was trying to stand up, clutching his side and gritting his teeth. The American rushed to help him up, getting a swat in return from Arthur.

"You didn't have to do anything. You should have fucking watched like the rest of them."

And with that, he just hobbled off, leaving Alfred dead confused. He looked at where Arthur had lain. His bag was still there, dog-eared books peeping out of the zip.

And so were suspicious specks of red that freckled the floor.

A/N: ASDFGHJKL SO MANY REVIEWS AND FOLLOWERS AND SOME FAVOURITES IN LIKE A FEW DAYS CAN I JUST HUG YOU ALL. Thanks so much for reading this! Sorry I didn't manage to update last week. I've got choir practices and assessments to balance. I'll update more in June if I don't get lazy. Because holidays.

AND HAVE I MENTIONED I'M GOING TO SPEND HALF OF IT IN ENGLAND *Flails around with a derpy smile*

Reviews and things like that brighten up my day, flames shall cook me more food hehe!

~Casey


	3. Absence

**Give Me Love Chapter 3**

**Warnings for this chapter: Blood, profanities, verbal bullying and somewhat suggestive thingies filed under bullying.**

_Alfred found himself looking at dark grey and skyscrapers towering over him. He sat up from the cold hard ground. The streets were empty and way too quiet. The wind whistled her haunting refrain, creeping Alfred out as a shiver passed through his spine. Arms wrapped around him, the American walked through the streets, hoping to find something. A gust of wind made him shiver, the white t-shirt not providing much warmth. _

_Out of the blue, a shrill scream cut the silence like a knife, a scream that mentally scarred Alfred. His instincts took the wheel and he sprinted in the direction of the unearthly sound, skidding and barely missing sharp bends. _

_He made one last turn and stopped right in his tracks. His eyes went large behind his spectacle lenses. _

_The street was like the aftermath of a massacre. Blood stained the gravel in pools, making Alfred's stomach churn. The clouds hung low like mist. It was getting harder for Alfred to breathe. What made things worst was what hung in the center of it all. _

_Arthur._

_Silver chains held him up by the wrists, their origin masked by the fog. The Briton's head hung down, his hair matted with blood. He too wore a white shirt, but it's front was stained with even more red. Alfred did not notice his breath quickening. He stumbled backwards, a hand cupping his mouth. His head was spinning. Nausea overwhelmed him. _

_Arthur looked up from the chains. His eyes were black, soulless voids. Blood ran from his eyes, marking his face with thread-like lines. His neck had an ugly bruise on it, as if he had been strangled. _

_Arthur opened his mouth. An ear-piercing shriek elicited from it, breaking the windowpanes of the surrounding buildings. The glass shards rained on Alfred as he covered his face with his arms. Alfred squeezed his eyes shut. He wanted to run away from the horrible situation._

No. Arthur needs help.

_Alfred grit his teeth and walked towards Arthur. The bloodied boy was still shrieking like a banshee. He walked right up to the Briton and looked him right in the eye. The shrieking stopped and Arthur started to hyperventilate, shoulders rising and falling rapidly. His eyes bore into Alfred's. _

"_Arthur…" he breathed. Said Brit cocked his head to the side, still peering at Alfred. His face was contorted in misery, face marked with dirt and grime. Alfred's chest hurt. _

_The corners of Arthur's lips curled upwards as he cocked his head to the side. His features _literally_ melted, swirling and turning into a revolting mush. Alfred jumped. The rate at which the Brit was melting increased and soon, he was just a puddle of pitch-black liquid, meandering through the empty streets…_

Alfred bolted up from the nightmare and fled to the washroom, nausea making everything around him spin. He threw up immediately, the sick taste of vomit making him feel even more disgusted.

Alfred hurried to the Chemistry Lab, slight desperation fuelling him. 2 weeks had passed since that incident with Ivan. 2 weeks since Arthur had stormed off. 2 weeks since he last saw Arthur, who decided to put on a vanishing act. The dream he had the previous night didn't make things any better. The memories of the dream still made him uneasy.

He looked in the direction of Arthur's lab table. No such luck. Alfred realized his shoulders were tensed up. He walked to his own table and sat down, carelessly drumming his fingers on its hard surface.

_Where are you, Arthur?_

Time went by. Students walked in. Alfred hoped Arthur was one of them. No Arthur. More students. The bell rang. Class started. No sign of Arthur.

"Okay class, carry out the experiment stated on page 89 of your Chemistry textbook and answer the questions on your handout. You have 20 minutes."

Alfred's fingers reached out for the liquids on the table when footsteps were heard. Alfred looked up, his insides almost collapsing in relief. It was Arthur, blonde hair and bushy brows, green-eyed and graceful.

Does that count as being gay again? Screw this unhealthy obsession.

"Mr. Kirkland," the Chemistry Professor said in a deadpanned tone. His annoyance was left unmasked.

"Dr. Jonathans," Arthur replied defiantly. He was wearing a black zip-up hoodie despite the sweltering heat. His hair was disheveled (compared to what it normally looked like, which was horrendous) and his eyes looked a little darker and more lifeless than it used to be. The shadows under his eyes were much more obvious than before. He looked really tired.

The Professor sighed and returned his eyes to his paper work and Arthur took it as a cue to return to his seat. Alfred's eyes never left the Briton the whole way, even after he returned to his seat.

For a brief moment, green met blue, the moment broken by Arthur looking away. Alfred thought he had seen a flash of fear, but dismissed it as him not getting enough sleep.

Chemistry came to a close after Dr. Jonathans rambled on for an eternity. Arthur was the first person to run out of the lab, in much more of a flurry then usual. His fingers were fiddling with the hem of his sweater. A glimpse of white was seen. The gears in Alfred's mind clicked and an unsettling wave hit him.

_Bandages? What is going on here?_

A/N: I'm so sorry for not updating for a month. I have severe writer's block now. That's another reason this chapter is so bloody short. I'll do my best to make Chapter 4 even better. ;_;

All the same, thank you all for reading this despite the horrible quality. All the wonderful reviews are really appreciated. 3

A big thank you to those who have favourited, followed and reviewed!

With love,

Casey


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